


A Year Later: Craig

by ashe_urbanipal



Series: A Year Later: Dream Daddy [2]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Appearance, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Gym, Jealousy, Lies, M/M, Misunderstanding, Pole Dancing, parenting, working out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashe_urbanipal/pseuds/ashe_urbanipal
Summary: A year of working out with Craig has some unexpected side-effects. How will they deal when a small hint of jealousy starts to manifest.





	A Year Later: Craig

I close my eyes and step on the scale. I open them and look down.

"Hot damn!"

"What's up, pops?" Amanda asks from her room. She's only been back from school a few days, and it already feels like old times.

"Somehow, through some small miracle, I'm back to my college weight."

"Ugh, can we not talk about college weight? I have one working pair of pants."

"I told you what that cafeteria food would do to you, panda. A couple visits to the gym with us will probably get rid of that freshman fifteen." I step down off the scale and try to catch Amanda's eye in the bathroom mirror through the slightly open door. She's too busy FaceSpacing or Twitjournaling or some other portmanteau of two social media sites that make me sound like the old man I am.

"I'm perfectly happy with my nacho and pop-tart diet for the time-being, but don't let me stop you, my dude." She throws a peace sign up at me as I pass by her door, and I stick my tongue out at her. She'll learn soon enough. Youth is wasted on the young.

 

Craig greets me warmly when I find him near the ellipticals. River's gotten too big for the chest carrier, so she's started going to daycare. That means there's nothing between us when his arms come around me in a lingering hug. There's a lightning quick squeeze on the tush thrown in for good measure. The first month or so, I had thought it was just the change from  platonic to romantic that had made Craig's shows of affection so weird and squirrely. Turns out with him it's all about the space. Right place, right time, he can't keep his hands to himself. The gym is the one in-between place. Fortunate considering how little time we get just the two of us during the week.

"Good morning, babe," he says quietly into my ear before pulling away. "Leg day, bro. You ready?"

"I love leg day!"

I actually hate leg day, but my god my butt looks amazing afterward.

Craig takes the nearest machine, and cranks the resistance up a couple of notches. I take the one next to him, and don't touch the knob. After a year, I'm still not at Craig level cardio capabilities.

"So I was reminded of something the other day that I had kinda forgotten, and now  
I feel a little guilty about it," he says after a moment or two.

"What's that?" I pant in response.

"Do you remember Christina Schroeder?"

I search through my internal rolodex. It's not ringing a bell, and I say as much.  
"She was friends with Ashley? Really short? Poly-sci major? Insanely good at flip cup?"

"OH!" I remember. "Tipsy Tina?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Our nicknames weren't very inspired back in the day, were they?"

"I think we managed to do pretty well considering our theme."

He smiles that half smile that turns my insides to pudding.

"Anyway," he continues, "I don't know if you ever knew this, but she had a humongous crush on you. Like she was majorly in love with you."

"O-oh?" I don't remember her well enough to feel one way or the other about this information.

"Well, Ashley told me I should try to hook you up, so she said we should all go on a double date. But, you know, I didn't want you to feel on the spot, so I had the idea that I would just invite you to go to something with us, but not tell you Tina was gonna be there, too."

"Okay?" I know my brow is crinkling trying to figure out where this is going.

"Yeah. Um. Do you remember that movie thing we were going to go to, but we ended up not because I got food poisoning from something at the make-your-own-pizza place?"

"Oh my god yes. You were throwing up for, like, 2 days. Shit, was that supposed to be the double date?"

"Yeah. Yeah it was. And I remembered, and I felt bad about it, and...I don't know."

"Dude, you shouldn't feel bad about cancelling a double date because you were sick."

"There's more." He starts to slow a little bit on the machine, looking down at the timer with an unsure frown. "I told the girls that _you_ were the one who was sick, and I was taking care of you, and that's why we couldn't go. But that they should go ahead and go without us."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It just felt...weird...at the time, and it was fun making you take care of me."

"Considering it's been twenty years, I'm inclined to forgive you...just this once."

He smiles again and punches me in the arm. Then he looks around to make sure no one's looking directly at us, and leans across the machine to peck me on the cheek.

"This is why I love you, bro. You understand me."

It's not the first time he's said it. Not by a long shot. He's always said it. Even when we were just friends back in college. It's not that I don't think he means it, but it's hard to know _how_ he means it, still.

 

The pizza place is a madhouse. There's at least three birthday parties going on, and the entirety of Briar and Hazel's softball team high off their championship win is making things even rowdier.

"Makes you wish we didn't promise them pizza after every win, doesn't it?" I lean in and say to him in a low voice as we survey the crowd, trying to keep an eye on each of the twins. He throws his arm around my shoulder. In front of the team is not one of the PDA-approved places, but an arm around the shoulder doesn't count.

"Ah come on, bro. It's your first winning season as assistant coach. Get excited."

I give a little sarcastic "whooo," and he grins at me widely. When the title of "assistant coach" had become available, he'd really only offered it to me because I had the extra time now that Amanda was off and semi-on her own. I'd only accepted it because it was the only way I could find to spend time with him. I really didn't know the first thing about coaching softball, but no one questioned it. Thus the elaborate ruse had been allowed to perpetuate long enough for me to actually learn the ropes and start to pull my weight.

"Hey boys." Oh god. It was one of the new moms this year, Elizabeth. She and her daughter had just relocated from the midwest, fresh off a nasty divorce.

"Some of the girls and I were talking," she starts.

_You mean you were talking and everyone was just nodding in agreement hoping you'd go away._

"And it might not be a bad idea to start talking about fundraising for next season early. What if we have a little meeting?"

_Alone, in your house, probably._

This is one thing that hasn't changed, and I can't stand it. Us being together is not a secret. Not in the least. They even poke fun at us and called us "the lovebirds." And yet it's like they don't think it counts because I'm a man. That I'm not going to feel equally perturbed by someone hanging all over my significant other and flirting with him right in front of my face. They wouldn't do this to a guy if his wife was standing right there.

But then again some of these ladies might.

Craig, at least, knows how to shake 'em off.

"I like the initiative Elizabeth, but let's let everyone celebrate the win before hitting it hard again." He half-smiles at her, one of the fake ones.

"Oh, well, I took loads of pictures today. Next weekend would be the perfect time to go through them."

"I'm pretty much booked up all next weekend."

"Mr. Assistant Coach isn't, though. What do you say?" and her arm comes around mine, and I panic. This is new. Craig's perfect eyebrows knit together in thinly veiled surprise.

"I-uh-" I sputter. Then Craig's hand comes around mine.

"He'll be with me that weekend. The girls are with their mom, so we're having some time together. Alone." Daggers come shooting from Craig's eyes, and Elizabeth is completely unable to comprehend what's just been said to her. She stands there, wide-eyed, not moving. "And we're gonna be having, just, tons of sex the entire time. So you know. No time to look through pictures." Elizabeth goes white as a sheet, and walks off without another word. I'm fairly certain I have a similar expression when I look up at Craig.

"What the shit was that, Craig?"

His face's lost a little color, too, though, and his hand comes up to cover his mouth.

"I don't know. I just...I don't like her. And I wanted her to go away as fast as possible." He's still holding my hand, squeezing tighter now. Elizabeth has fallen back to a gaggle of moms, and now they're darting glances at us. They're trying to hide it and not doing a very good job. He finally lets go.

"God they're gonna talk about that for a week," Craig sighs. "But whatever, bro, right?"

"Right," I respond unsure.

 

I wake up Monday morning with a start. Something's off. I check my phone. I should have been at the gym an hour ago. There's about a fifty percent chance on any given day that I'll sleep through my alarm. I've come to terms with that and so has Craig. That's why he always texts me before he's about to leave the house. He knows I won't actually go unless he does. What's going on?

I send a quick text.

"Where are you? Are we not going to the gym, today?" I type. It's a solid five minutes before he responds, practically an eternity.

"Sorry, bro. I'm feeling a little sick, so I decided not to go. :("

_The frowny face is a nice touch. Oh well._

"Want me to bring you something? Need help with the girls?" I text back immediately. I only have to wait half a second this time.

"No. It's cool. Twins are at camp and I managed to get River to day care. So I'm just gonna sleep."

There he goes trying to do everything himself. I've told him again and again that I'm here. That I can help. He's slowly getting it, but he's more stubborn than he realizes. In any case, I decide that, despite his protests, I _will_ be taking care of him. If only a little.

"Amanda, I'm going to the store for a few things, then over to Craig's. Do you need anything?" I tap on her door and only get a groan in response.

_Guess not._

It's only a five minute drive to the small grocery store down the road. It's across the street from the gym and a new hyper-organic, gluten free, paleo, vegan-ultra-plus juice bar that's making everyone nervous. It only takes another fifteen minutes or so to pick up the whole "sick boyfriend" bundle then I briefly entertain the thought of getting him a mango smoothie. It's his favorite.

I only just pull into the parking lot, though, before slamming on my brakes so hard I almost ram into the car ahead of me.

Craig is coming out of the gym looking as fine as ever. Which, for Craig, is _extremely_ fine. Behind him is a gaggle of the softball moms.

_What in the hell is this shit?!_

I want to yell out the car window at him, but I don't. I can't. I'm too utterly perplexed. I take a few breaths to keep myself from getting mad. There's an explanation. Craig has given me no reason not to trust him in all the time I've known him.

Right?

I'm back in my living room without being totally sure how I got there. Amanda's sitting on the couch staring at me.

"What's up, Pops?I thought you were going to see your booooyyyfriiiieeend." She flashes a quick smile as she draws out the last word, but it fades quickly. "Seriously. What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I flop down on the couch and sink back into it.

"What do you do if you find out your boyfriend lied to you?"

"Um. Okay? How big a lie we talkin'? Because it's just self-preservation to not tell you if a pair of jeans make you fat."

"He said he was sick, and he's not. I just saw him coming out of the gym with some of the softball moms."

"Oh. Well. Um. Hm." She makes a few more noncommittal sounds. "Sounds like you should have one of those 'communications' you're always telling me is so important to a proper, mature relationship."

"Yeah...yeah, you're right."

"Of course I am." She pats me on the head.

 

I don't call or text him right away like I would have recommended to my own daughter. Instead I convince myself that this is a conversation better to have in person.

Tuesday we're supposed to go for a run, but there's something he has to deal with at River's daycare. It ends up being an unexpected no-go.

Wednesday is a gym day. It starts with a text in the morning that his car's acting weird, so he's taking it into the shop. No need to worry about it, though. He has it covered. I understand car issues, but the insistence that he doesn't need my help bothers me immensely. I don't know how to react to it.

"Oh, and tomorrow is daddy/daughter day at camp, so I'll be doing that." He texts next.

That's classic Craig and I can't fault him for it. I love that about him, actually. I feel myself relaxing a little.

"And let's do 9:00 instead this Friday."

_No._

That's too far. I've been waking up at 6:00 (sorta) to get to the gym by 7:00 regularly for months. We've never EVER shifted times. His daily schedule is too tight. No. Something's wrong. I give him an out.

"Everything okay, bro? Anything I can help with?" I stare at the screen, waiting, watching. A whole year passes, it feels like.

"No. It's cool."

Then just ":)" about ten seconds later.

_Craaaiiiig. I am gonna wring your neck. Your hot, muscular neck._

 

I feel like the ultimate stalker watching from my window for Craig's car Friday morning. He's off in his gym clothes (which, admittedly, are often his regular clothes, too) about 6:45.

_What the hell is he up to?_

I give myself a buffer of three minutes, then head out to my own car. Four or five times while driving I tell myself I should just go back home. That I'm being literally the worst. Each time, though, I remind myself that it's Craig's fault I'm like this, right now.

_Oh my god. I've become the crazy they say not to stick your dick in. When did this happen? Craig doesn't deserve this._

Still, I pull into the parking lot where the gym is. I see Craig's car and park next to it to make a point to myself. I don't find him right away in any of our usual areas, so I wander toward the back of the gym where they hold classes in large, tiled rooms. There's a small group of people huddled around one of the large windows that peek into the classrooms, and I have a sneaking suspicion they'll lead me to Craig.

I'm not wrong.

This, however, is not what I expected to find.

So he's not shirtless. That would cause a riot. He might as well be, though. Instead of his sweats, he's in a tank top loose and thin enough that you can pretty much just see everything, anyway. And those are short shorts. Real, honest-to-God booty shorts. The kind that have "Juicy" written across the butt of them. These, specifically, don't. They're just black. It would be an appropriate label, though.

Once I've taken in the whole...ensemble...I'm able to break my attention away long enough to appreciate the context of the outfit.

"Is this a pole dancing class?" I say quietly to no one in particular.

"Yeah!" a woman responds next to me. "They used to be only at night, but she just started a new morning class. You should try it. I bet you'd be really good." I glance at her, and she's wiggling her eyebrows at me just a little. I give a little breathy, half-hearted laugh, then focus my attention back on the class.

I can't hear it, but I feel the music start through the vibration of the glass. A handful of women take places at the poles lined up in staggered rows. I'm slightly horrified to note that some of them are softball moms. They're clothes aren't as revealing as Craig's by a long shot (yoga pants and baggy t-shirts), but it takes me a moment to shift my frame of reference.

They start with stretches. The usual. Nothing particularly interesting. The group around the window starts to scatter.

Then they actually take to the poles.

_Oh. Oh my god._

I don't know pole dancing beyond the one time that I was dragged to a strip club against my will (by Craig come to think of it), but even I can figure out that he's just terrible at this. When the girls spin, even if they're just sort of falling around the pole, it at least looks graceful. Craig is clunky and awkward, and when he throws his weight against the pole he just sort of flops like a fish in midair. As the class progresses, it becomes clear that he has the proper upper and core body strength, but lacks the coordination to actually pull off any of the minor feats of acrobatics.

I'm riveted for the entirety of the hour long class, long after the rest of the onlookers have left. Despite his inexpert flailing, a single thought keeps going through my head: how much I'd love to be that pole.

 

I knock on his door that evening. I don't tell him I'm coming. I don't give him a chance to give me an excuse. He doesn't seemed confused that I didn't show up to our later gym date. I was out of there before he could catch me at the end of class, so as far as I know, he still doesn't know that I know.

The girls are with their mother this weekend, though, and this is getting figured out before I lose my mind.

Craig shows a flash of surprise when he opens the door, and I step in before he can say anything. I don't get to come over often, so his house still feels strange to me. That doesn't stop me from crossing my arms in his living room and staring him down like I own the place. I don't know where any of this bravado is coming from, but I need to ride the high until Craig answers.

"I'm sorry, bro. I guess I've been blowing you off a little this week," he says, folding his arms together and looking down at his toes. I deflate pretty much instantly.

_Damn._

"It just seems like you've been really busy, and you don't want to take my help," I prod just a little. Then I prod him quite literally in the calf with my toe. "Were you gonna tell me about the pole dancing class?" I decide to end this. To deal the killing blow. Craig goes white as a sheet.

"Uh-h-how did you-?"

"I came during our normal gym time this morning." No need to mention the part about following him. That's a secret I'll just go ahead and tuck away forever.

"Oh…you...watched?"

"Yeah."

He rubs his hand across his mouth, thinking.

"I'm so bad at it, bro."

"I saw. In the outfit and everything."

"It's too much, isn't it?"

"I mean...I'm not gonna complain if you were to slip into it right now."

Craig raises an eyebrow at me.

"I can do that, you know." He steps toward me deliberately, bringing his hands down to my hips. I puff out my cheeks at him a little. I very much would like to go ahead and follow through with the look that's in his eyes, but I need to stay focused. Communication. Adulting.

"Why didn't you just tell me? I've been going crazy all week thinking that I did something or that something was wrong or...I don't know. I probably went through a thousand different possibilities."

He brings his hands from my hips to my shoulders. Then from shoulders to cupping my cheeks with his hands.

"Babe. I'm so, so sorry. Things just got really weird all of a sudden, and I got a little blindsided, I guess." He lets out a quick breath of air then looks down and away, collecting his thoughts. "You know Colleen? Becca's mom?"

"Yeah. Of course. I love Colleen. She's the best."

"Right? Well, her sister runs that class, and normally it's only at night but she's trying to do morning classes, too. So she offered free lessons to all the moms or something? I don't know. Anyway. Monday. I legitimately just forgot to send you your wakeup text. I'd been talking to Ashley about arranging the girls' pick-up this weekend, and it really just slipped my mind. When I got to the gym, though, I saw all these moms we know and they told me about this class they're taking and they sort of...bullied me into taking the class with them."

"They...bullied you?" I ask, trying not to smile as I imagine this manliest of men being pressured into anything by these suburban moms. He moves his hands from my jaw to rest them on the top of his head. He shifts on his feet and looks down at the ground again.

"'Oh come on, Coach, I bet you're really good at it. Mr. Assistant Coach should join us, too.' And I thought… I'll just do it once. Then it'll be so weird that they'll never bring it up again."

"And?"

"I liked it?" He bites his bottom lip. "But to be totally clear on something. There was an actual problem at River's daycare and it really was daddy/daughter day at camp. So I only technically lied twice. That sounds awful when I say that outloud."

"No...it's fine." I punch him in the chest, then wiggle my fingers when it hurts. "You could have said something, though. Anything. Hell. I might have even considered joining you. It might-"

"No!"

He says it so loudly and forcefully that I catch my breath in my throat.

"Sorry. Um. If you want to take a pole dancing class, I'm not gonna stop you. Like...you know I'm not gonna get in the way of your physical fitness goals, bro. But...um...can you not with the moms from softball? I'm gonna stop after the free classes this week." He rubs the back of his neck, nervously.

"I was joking, but now I'm a little worried again."

He sighs and pops his lips a few times.

"No offense intended but-"

"You're about to almost offend me, anyway?"

"I-hrrmm." He purses his lips at me. "I was hotter than you back in college. I didn't quite realize it, at the time, but I—and this is gonna sound terrible—kinda liked it? That I got all the attention when we were out together. Because you were smarter and funnier and nicer. So I had this one thing, but because people were always looking at me, they weren't looking at you and seeing how amazing you were and I got you all to myself. It's really stupid, now, obviously, but at the time it was important."

I don't know what to say. This is the deepest Craig's ever gotten with me. I feel like I'm seeing a new part of him.

"But, now you're hot, bro. Like...objectively. And the moms talk about you all the time. 'The new assistant coach really fills out that shirt.' 'Too bad he's taken.' 'Man knows how to use a bat.' It's been driving me nuts all season,"

This was news to me. I had maybe caught a few catcher/pitcher jokes at my expense, but I still only ever heard swooning over Craig.

"And I don't know why it bugs me," he continues. "And I just don't want you around them if I can help it. I never said any of this because it makes me sound like a creep."

"Craig...are you jealous?" I ask, very unsure of all of this nonsense and remembering how much of a creeper I am, too. He looks at me like he's confused by the very word itself.

"Oh my god, I might be."

"You _might_ be?"

"I don't know, bro! I...shit." He's laughing, pressing his palm to his forehead. "Is that what it is?"

"You're a mess, dude." I'm smiling, too. We're both a disaster, really. A couple of idiots still stuck in that weird spot between friends and boyfriends.

While I'm still taking deep breathes and settling into the absurdity of it all, Craig steps up to me again, chest to chest. One arms wraps around my waist and the other finds a place behind my neck. Then he kisses me hard and deep, really getting into those back teeth. I suddenly remember I haven't seen him in a week, and now that we're squared away I _really_ need to see him. As much as him as possible. He pulls away for a moment.

"I love you," he says.

'I love you, too, dude." It's an easy thing to say. It always has been.

"No." He looks me straight in the face, locking eyes with me. "I love you. I really do. I think I might always have at least a little, and now you're just...my world….after the girls."

"Obviously. Kids always get the top spot." My face hurts from being angry and smiling and getting kissed out of my mind, unexpectedly. But Craig is looking at me with that look, and I realize he's expecting an answer. "I love you, too. Really."

He pulls me in again, his mouth next to my ear.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to see some of my new moves in person, but...you know."

"Yeah, your old moves will do just fine."

And yeah. They certainly do.

**Author's Note:**

> My central point shifted a bit as i was laying this out and I went back to adjust. I'm a little happier with this iteration than my original idea. I worry there's not enough "bros" in it, though.


End file.
